I'm Just Here to Make Money
by Ly Merrick
Summary: Santana Lopez has a job at Lima's only movie theater - a job she needs for reasons she doesn't want anyone to know. Rachel Berry gets a job, and of course it's at the movie theater. Santana really doesn't want to work with her, but she has to suck it up, despite her reservations. The universe sends us just what we need when we least expect it. (Eventual M rating.)
1. Trainee

**Pairing:** Rachel/Santana

**Synopsis:** (1 of 10) Santana _really _doesn't want to work with Rachel. However, since Lima is a small town, when Rachel has to get a job, she just so happens to end up where Santana already works.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so _swearimnotthedevil_ from Tumblr suggested I use a new song from the Tegan and Sara album that just came out. I did some digging, found one I liked, and here is the resulting fic. I hope you enjoy! Lyrics from "I Couldn't Be Your Friend" by Tegan and Sara.

###

**ONE: **Trainee

_Does your heart ache _

_When you get around me?_

_Does your heart break_

_When you think about me?_

###

"Jason, are you _fucking _kidding me? _This _is the new trainee?" Hell fucking no. Santana Lopez was not going to have Rachel Berry following her around like a little puppy dog. There was a reason she didn't like people, and a reason she didn't like Rachel Berry. They were one and the same: people annoyed the shit out of her. Rachel Berry was a people.

Her boss, a pimple-faced 20-something, held a finger rigid to his lips, "First of all, don't swear at me or I'll write you up." Jason had very little patience for Santana. Just cause she was a _little _temperamental.

Santana rolled her eyes, folded her arms over her chest. "Second?"

Jason seemed to blank a little bit. "Uh."

Rachel cleared her throat behind him.

"Right. You're going to train Rachel. I don't care if you guys have classes together and you hate each other, but you're not here to be friends." He smacked his hands together in finality and stalked out of the room.

Santana stared down at Rachel as if she were a problem that needed to be solved. "So neither one of us wants to do this but let's get to it," the Latina knew when it was time to fume and when it was time to work. And right now, with Jason watching from behind the door like Santana couldn't see his pasty face through the glass, it was time to work. She tossed Rachel a uniform shirt, "You should probably take off that ugly sweater." She lead the girl to the back, where there were a few employee lockers to put purses or jackets or whatever. "This is where we put our shit," she was quite unceremonious. "Your locker will be here," Santana took a loose lock and tossed it at Rachel. "Combination's on the back."

Santana was a little surprised that Rachel was so quiet the whole time, pleasantly so. Maybe she wouldn't be Miss Perfect like she was at school. So obnoxiously _good _all the time. And so easily offended.

"Clock in here," she brought Rachel to an old computer. It was an ancient Macintosh, the kind that sat on top of the hard-drive and took floppy disks. Santana stepped aside, leaning against the lockers. "Type your name in here," she pointed to the screen. Beside her, Rachel bit her lip as she perplexedly tried to navigate the practically-fossilized keyboard. "And the time here."

"How old is this thing?"

"Old enough for you to ask." Santana smirked.

"I know we're not friends –" Rachel had begun as she closed the clock-in screen.

"Oooh, nobody told me you were _smart, _too." She tweaked Rachel's nose before turning on heel and heading back into the concession stand. Santana laughed under her breath as she heard a muffled grumble as Rachel pulled on the employee polo shirt. The Latina grabbed a spare employee ID tag, a marker, and wrote out Rachel's name. For a second she was tempted to write, "Frodo," but decided against it. She turned around, clipped the ID tag to Rachel's shirt.

"The machines are pretty simple," Santana continued their little tour. She pushed a couple buttons on the soda machine, flicked some lemonade at Rachel's face, satisfied with the sour look Rachel gave her. "Popcorn machine runs itself. If it ever fuc—screws up," she decided it wasn't the best to keep swearing when Jason would be scrutinizing them, since she really needed this job, "just tell me or Jason and we'll fix it."

"Where are the refill things? If the soda runs out?"

Santana motioned to Rachel, hips swaying a little as she lead the girl into the back room. There were several large cardboard containers with clear tubes coming out of them, others gummy from soda, and opposite them, unopened ones. "Try to pick one up. We need to change the Coke anyway," Santana pointed to the box, stepped back, and waited to be amused. Those boxes were actually pretty heavy, and she didn't expect Rachel would be able to pick one up alone.

She was right. The box almost came clattering to the ground, but Rachel managed to lean it against a shelf. "That wasn't nice," the diva glared back at Santana.

"Had to learn somehow," Santana smirked, looping an arm under the box and helping Rachel set it on the proper shelf. "Twist that," she motioned to the empty box's plastic nozzle, "then punch a hole in this one, pull the thing out," she was quick with what she did, but just out of practice. "Twist this part back on, make sure it's secure otherwise it gets all sticky like this one," she motioned to the empty container. She threw the empty box in a large bin in the corner. "Trash gets changed at the end of the night. After the end of each showing, we go in and clean up after people. That's pretty much the whole job. Mostly, we just end up standing behind this counter."

Rachel nodded, taking another look at things before shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

"You don't like me, I definitely don't like you, so let's just try to avoid pissing each other off," she patted Rachel's shoulder with a hint of patronizing tones.

The diva sighed a little, appeared to try and distract herself with straightening out a stack of cups beside the register, "I don't think I'm someone who intentionally tries to upset someone. We may not get along but that doesn't mean I don't like you."

"Ugh, spare me your goody-two-shoes bit, please."

"What? I just think you have some anger issues, and you're … not my biggest fan," Rachel's eyes darted in Santana's direction before darting away again.

"_Don't _test me, Frodo," she growled, reaching over and grabbing Rachel by the shoulders, tugging her into her side in a faux-display of camaraderie. "I need this job. I assume you need this job because you're here, but don't think I don't know how to get what I want just because we have a _boss _here. I am not only _not _a fan but I think you're brainwashed and full of yourself."

"Brainwashed?"

"Who says you have to be society's 'it-girl?' You spend so much time licking everyone's boots, I'm sure you get a taste of what people are really like. I _don't _have anger issues. I'm just honest." She let Rachel go with a kind of flourish.

"Honest with everyone but yourself," Rachel spoke quietly.

Santana narrowed her eyes and was about to fire off some brilliantly sarcastic remark when a notification light shone beside the register. A small panel notified them when a certain theater was empty. "Stay here. I'll go clean the theater out. Don't let anyone rob the place."

She stalked out of the room, grumbling to herself about short people and big egos, stopping to give a half-hearted smile to retreating customers. Santana grabbed the vacuu-broom and ran it over troublesome spots. She spotted Jason up in the projector room, and made quick work of what she was doing. It never failed to surprise her how sloppy people were.

"Anger issues," she grumbled as she dumped the filter, "like I _really _have anger issues. It's just that people are shitty and I don't have patience for them. It's not my fault. They're the idiots." Santana was fully ranting to herself by the time she got done. Out in the lobby area, Rachel was serving someone popcorn and ringing it up. The brunette glanced up and watched Santana move across the lobby. Santana pretended not to notice, and began cleaning up the small areas. More customers came in, tickets in hand, and Santana directed them to the appropriate place.

The thing was, Santana didn't like people because they couldn't be trusted. She'd been fucked over one too many times. By Brittany, by Sam, by anyone she'd previously trusted – excluding Puck because she'd never trusted him – and she didn't see any reason to change her ways. She could tell by the way Rachel watched her that the diva was trying to psychoanalyze her. That made her crankier. By the time the night ended, she didn't say so much as a goodbye before grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulder, stalking out of the place.

Of all people, she had to work with the dwarf.

###

They had officially been working together for a week when it started. The questions. Rachel was doing that thing she did to people she thought needed a _friend. _She asked them subtle shit that was supposed to let Rachel get who they were.

"You've not always been so angry with everyone," Rachel observed. It was a slow Wednesday night and they'd had a grand total of three customers. One couple that were probably making out anyway and not even watching the movie, and a creepy 30-something dude that wheezed when he spoke.

"Oh, 'cause you've known me _so _well." Santana rolled her eyes.

"I mean, sure you've aimed a few slushies and pulled hair but you've never been like this. I've seen you at school. You don't even talk to Brittany anymore."

"Woo, give the girl an award," Santana glowered at Rachel and went back to cleaning out the popcorn machine. "Please tell me where this is going because your voice is annoying as shit. Not that it isn't always."

"Thank you," Rachel sounded a little irritated. "I'm saying the only reason you don't talk to anyone and you treat everyone like dirt is because you're really just angry and you bottle every other emotion up."

"Freud, you're not telling me anything I don't already know," Santana got up, having cleaned out the machine. She deposited the popcorn seeds and shut the glass door before flipping the switch. She rubbed buttery fingers down the front of Rachel's shirt. "So what's the fucking point?"

"You need someone to talk to." Rachel held her shirt aloft, trying to rub the butter off of her shirt but only making the fabric darken. She sighed. "You can lash out at me all you want but I see you."

"You don't see _mierda, _and if I'm going to talk to someone it's sure as hell not going to be you. I'm here to get bills paid and get the hell out of Lima after I graduate. Not to make _friends._"

Rachel looked a little wounded, and stood with a gaping mouth for just a second. Santana _almost _felt bad. Almost.

###

Okay, so maybe she was being a little unfair. As she cleaned up after a particularly messy group of middle-schoolers, she realized that all her bile didn't need to be directed at Rachel. She didn't want to be friends with Rachel, but maybe she didn't have to treat her like shit.

"Oh, what," realizing that maybe she had a nice streak deep down, she stood up and looked around the empty theater, "the actual fuck. Since when do I have a good angel on my fucking shoulder." She stomped a foot in defiance before growling at herself and continuing to clean up wrappers and mess.

Santana was scowly by the time she got back to the concession stand. She certainly wasn't going to _apologize _but she would lay off the bitterness for a little bit. A little bit.

Rachel was especially quiet anyway.

When they went to school, neither acknowledged each other any more than they would have before. Santana hadn't said anything to anyone and she was pretty sure Rachel didn't want people to know she had a job. The Latina secretly wondered why Rachel was working anyway. She was pretty sure the diva's fathers were pretty loaded since she had those horribly distasteful expensive sweaters in a large variety.

In their obvious silence, Santana would sometimes sneak glances at Rachel just to try and see what she was thinking. Other times, she'd feel Rachel watching her and she'd find a reason to duck out and do something else. She knew Frodo had been dreaming up some _great _theories about why she was such a bitch to everyone but she really didn't want to hear them because that would give her a reason to lash out.

Last time she checked, she didn't hire Dr. Rachel as her therapist. So for the most part, she avoided any conversation and sometimes she'd even raise her finger, say, "Shhh," very pointedly before going back to what she was doing.

Stifling Rachel would only work for so long though. Eventually the dwarf would find a way to get _something _out of Santana and she was already cranky about it.

Later that week, when the last movie was running and literally nobody was there, Santana told Rachel she was going to clean one of the theaters but in reality she was just going to go catch the last bit of the movie that was running. It was some cheesy Nicholas Sparks' shit and not that Santana would readily admit it, but sometimes she was a sucker for that bullshit.

She rested her feet on the back of a chair, glad that Jason wasn't working that evening, and let the projector run through the movie. This chick flick was a little too cheesy, and she was in the middle of snorting about a clever joke she made when she saw a dark figure standing next to the row she sat on. Santana almost jumped out of her seat but instead ended up with her ass on the arm of one chair, her arm hung down the gap in the seat beside her.

"Fuck! Why would you sneak up on me like that?"

"Santana Lopez!"

"You're such a creep! What are you doing there just… standing there!"

"What are _you _doing watching a movie while you're _working?_"

"Nobody's even _here, _Rachel. Jesus." Santana untangled herself from the seats and sat down a seat further from the aisle. "It's not like Jason's working tonight and this is the last movie playing. _God."_

Rachel hesitated at the end of the aisle; Santana thought she was going to sit down but instead the shorter girl stalked out of the theater, grumbling all the way.

Santana smirked, settled down in her seat, and finished the movie. That is, until the movie stopped prematurely. When Santana turned around, she caught Rachel's retreating shape in the corner of the projector window.

"You are _such _a killjoy!" She fumed at the bottom of the stairs as Rachel came down. The diva squeaked in surprise. "Why did you turn it off?"

"Because we have _work _to do. Or did you forget about that part?"

"I'm calling you a surgeon to remove that stick from your twat."

Rachel's face contorted in disgust, "Real classy, Santana. Really." She tossed Santana a package of sanitizing wipes to be used on the concession counters.

"I'm just saying you should get it looked at because it's really keeping you from enjoying life."

To Santana's surprise, Rachel wheeled around, a fist clamped at Santana's collar, and the girl pulled her forward a little roughly. It was kinda hot.

"Listen, Santana, I don't appreciate you talking to me like that and I'm really getting tired of you constantly being a _bitch. _I'm not in the mood to deal with your shit tonight and I want to get out of here so either you help me clean this place up or I'm going to do more than grab you by your shirt collar. Just because I'm quiet and kind it doesn't mean that I don't know a thing or two about punishment," Rachel's expression was so intense that it was hard to laugh off what she was saying. Santana was determined to keep her cool but _fuck _it was a little sexy watching Rachel talk about punishment like that.

She peeled Rachel's hand from her shirt, smoothed out her collar, "You just gotta learn how to talk to a girl," Santana quipped under her breath, walking just a little faster by Rachel and getting back to work. She tread a little more carefully the rest of that week.

###

Santana decided she didn't totally hate Rachel. It took a month to come to that conclusion, but she came to it one night when Rachel asked her for help changing out one of the sodas. It was one of those sudden realizations. And she realized it because she hadn't even made a smartass remark when Rachel asked, she'd just said, "Sure, Rach." Rachel had blinked at her a few times, narrowed her eyes, and waited for a moment as if she was seeing if she had really heard Santana correctly.

"Oo-kay." Rachel had responded simply, the hint of a half-smile on her lips as she turned around.

Santana was just about to ask what Rachel was making a big deal about when she realized she'd just called Rachel 'Rach.' Not Frodo, or Gimli, or Gremlin, or imp, or midget princess, not even _Rachel. _She had called her a nickname. A nice nickname. After she deduced that she didn't have a fever of some sort, she followed the brunette into the back and helped her heft the soda onto the shelf, and watched as Rachel twisted the plastic nozzle on.

Not like they were friends or anything, but the smile on Rachel's face was there and Santana realized the brunette was smiling at the fact she hadn't been called something terrible.

All Santana said was, "Don't get used to it." Rachel laughed.

###

Santana was in the middle of counting the money in the register when Rachel spoke.

"I'm working here because NYADA has a large application fee and I realized if I want to get anywhere, I'd better get used to taking care of myself," Rachel was wiping the inside of the snack counter down.

Raising an eyebrow, Santana sighed, "Why are you telling me?"

"Because I know you've been wondering. Or have at least wondered, at some point."

"Oh now you're a mind-reader."

"A little bit," Rachel responded in that cocky tone she sometimes got. And then Santana groaned inwardly.

_Fuck. I'm getting to know her quirks. _

"That was a joke, Santana," Rachel said pointedly, her voice bouncing around inside the snack display and coming out muffled by the time it got to Santana.

"Hah," she humored the brunette, looking down at her through the top of the counter. Experimentally, she slapped the glass and chuckled when Rachel jumped inside the display case. She snorted a little then went back to what she was doing.

"I noticed something," Rachel was brushing herself off as she got up from the floor. "You don't call me terrible things anymore."

"Maybe I'm trying to think of something new to call you."

"Like 'Rach?'"

Santana flipped the brunette off, turning her back to Rachel as she started wiping down the display cups. "No, I was thinking something like Furby."

"Please."

Okay, so Santana didn't even believe that.

"You don't even insult me in school anymore. In fact, people are starting to notice. You should be careful. I might start to think you feel like I'm a human being."

"You're not. I'd get genetic testing done."

"You can cover all you want, Santana, but you're starting to be _nice _to me," Rachel flicked the back of Santana's neck. The Latina flinched and slapped Rachel's hand away.

"You wish."

"Dare I say you're even noticing some things about me, like the way I look or the way I say things, starting to notice habits I have."

Santana clamped her mouth shut, eyebrows knit together in irritation.

"I'm guessing you can even tell me how I wear my hair on what days. Because like it or not Santana, you're starting to see me as a person. And after that, you're going to see me as someone you trust," Rachel was circling around Santana, and had managed to wedge herself in between the counter and Santana, putting them in unusually close quarters. "I bet you even feel tempted to speak to me in public sometimes."

"You wish, and I don't know why you're cuddling up to me and I get that I'm totally attractive but please respect a two-foot minimum space requirement," Santana was trying to blow Rachel off but the brunette was really pushy tonight. When Santana moved away and started working on something else, Rachel had made her way around the counter and was leaning across it, directly in front of Santana. "Do you mind?"

"No, but you do. You know I'm right and it freaks you out that you might even find me slightly agreeable to be around."

"At best, but you're really pushing it, Berry."

"Oh, now it's Berry?"

Santana slammed her hands down on the counter, but Rachel didn't flinch away.

"You don't scare me anymore, Santana."

Santana narrowed her eyes, and decided to switch gears. So Rachel thought she couldn't be scared by Santana anymore? She'd prove otherwise.

The girl backed off, headed around to the other side of the concession stand. When she was sure there wasn't management around, or customers, she closed the distance between herself and Rachel, grabbing the shorter girl by her collar and backing her up against the counter. Santana turned on that predatory part of herself, and smoothed Rachel's collar out.

"Let me tell you something, Rachel," Santana purred. "Fear comes in different shapes and sizes." She let her fingers run down the front of Rachel's shirt, skirting over Rachel's breasts, fingers curving around Rachel's side. She made sure to draw every movement out, smirking at the way Rachel's breath was starting to heave out of her as Santana's hand moved to Rachel's lower back, the side of her thighs, and cupped her ass. She squeezed, noting how Rachel really was pretty physically fit despite being a geek. "Right now, you're a whole different kind of scared. Your cheeks are flushed," Santana's free hand ran along the side of Rachel's throat and her voice was a quiet purr. She intentionally let herself hover just close enough to Rachel's lips to hear her gasp. The brunette was breathing heavily and her eyes were dilated, just enough to let Santana know she was right. "You're not just afraid of me being this close, but you're afraid because you _like _it. And you kind of want me to kiss you because the little lezzie in you is just begging for me to close the distance."

Rachel's breathing was choppy at best because Santana's hand was absentmindedly grabbing her ass and tugging Rachel's hips into hers, "S-Santana," the diva's hand had moved between them and was weakly pressing at Santana's arm as if to push her away, but really all she was managing to do was grasp Santana's arm.

"So don't tell me I don't scare you, because I have ways to scare you. I have ways to make your toes curl in fear, and I have ways to make sure you _never _forget how _good _I am at scaring you," Santana's lips were right beside Rachel's ear. As if to make her point, she pressed her lips near Rachel's ear, kissing the soft skin there. She felt Rachel's hand fly to her waist in surprise. "I bet if I were to touch you right now, slip my hand just beneath those tight jeans of yours, not only would I find you aching but wet and eager."

When she backed up, she intentionally let her fingers slip along Rachel's ass and around to the side of those well-toned thighs. She closed the distance briefly, hearing Rachel's breath catch, and touched her lips to Rachel's forehead. She tapped Rachel's cheek softly with a finger before turning around.

"Hopefully you'll be more careful about what you say," Santana warned Rachel as she walked away. Though she walked the walk of someone triumphant, she realized later that night when she got in her car, she'd been just as scared as Rachel looked.

###

Rachel seemed to find it easier to pretend that their little encounter hadn't happened. Even in school, she blustered and avoided any conversation with Santana. Well, well. At least her test had worked. Besides, there were lots of ways to keep people at arms' length. She didn't always have to be a bitch to keep people away from her. Sometimes she had to use a person's hormones against them.

What Santana didn't count on was that her hormones had reacted just as strongly as Rachel's did. In fact, she woke up a couple times later that week with the realization that she'd been having dreams about Rachel. That made it even harder to act aloof when she went to work. She and Rachel got by with the basics, and the brunette seemed to have lost the courage to challenge Santana and try to get into her head.

In fact, if Santana was honest with herself, she kind of missed the way things were just before she'd freaked Rachel out. She'd gotten what she thought she wanted.

For a while though, she'd kind of liked having someone trying to get in her head. When she'd been dating Britt, the blonde had been far too easy to get off course. It was easy to keep her at bay because she was pretty simple to trick. With Rachel, Santana had kind of had a challenge.

The mutual silence didn't last too long, though. When Rachel was helping her change out one of the sodas, she broke the ice between them, "I know what you were doing when you … did that."

"Changed the soda?" Santana played dumb, and left the room with Rachel not far behind her. She washed her hands in the little sink behind the concession counter, and having no place to dry them, she wiped them down the front of Rachel's shirt. Rachel was not pleased, but it didn't deter her from the path she was on.

"You know what I'm talking about. You think by freaking me out a little bit you're going to keep me from trying to get into my head but I'm – "

"Annoying? Overinvolved in everyone's life? Short?" Santana tried her best to keep on the move but Rachel wouldn't give up. Damn her.

"I'm unusually _observant_," Rachel gritted her teeth, the words coming out between them, "and I'm fully aware that you not only use your quick wit but you also use your sexuality as a tool against people. You feel like you have something to hide and that somebody's going to use what they can against you, so you might as well beat them to it."

"You're like Dr. Phil's annoying little stage hand," Santana was full-on frowning.

"My point exactly. Every time I say something that's true, you counter it in some way. I'm not stupid."

"Oh, my, god. What is your point?"

"My point is that you're lonely and you don't think people are going to notice but I watch you on your break."

"Creep."

"I've seen you checking your phone and frowning at it, like you're waiting for someone to contact you, to reach out to you. Nobody is."

"Thank you for reminding me," Santana felt a sting from that observation, slammed the garbage can back down, and headed into one of the empty theaters to clean up. She felt Rachel's hand on her arm a few moments later, and they were silhouetted in the dark as the credits rolled. Santana jerked her arm away. "If I wanted a therapist," she spat, wheeling around and facing Rachel, "I'd _pay _for one."

"You have a picture in your locker of you and your abuela, and a little boy. You threw one away two weeks ago of you and Britt and Quinn. They don't talk to you anymore and it kills you."

Folding her arms over her chest, she rolled her eyes and stared at the ceiling, "Do you have a point, Gimli, because I am about point two seconds from showing you how awesome my right hook is."

"You'd never hurt me." Rachel was so sincere that it surprised Santana. And it kind of pissed her off that she was right. "Because you know I'm the first person to pay enough attention to the way you look sad and hurt whenever Quinn or Brittany decide to sit beside someone _besides _you. I'm the first person to see the way you pretend to look at your fingernails when you look like you're about to cry."

Santana laughed without mirth. She was absolutely not enjoying this. "Do I need to get a restraining order, you imp? Or are you going to keep pointing out quaint observations about me?"

"You ball your fists up whenever you don't know whether to be sad or angry, and you're doing it right now because you're fighting every urge inside you to leave this theater and go home early because you can't stand the fact that somebody is paying attention to you."

Santana blew, enunciating every syllable, "Why do you care, Rachel? Or are you just helping me relive my more painful memories to bring me down a notch or two?" Her voice was a little louder than she intended. "You know what? Forget it. I don't care. You're wrong." She shoved Rachel back just enough to get by her, and left the theater door swinging harshly on its hinges.

"Oh, _please, _Santana," Rachel's voice followed her through the doors, just as loud and challenging as her own. She grabbed Santana by the arm and swung her around. "Why don't you admit that the only reason this bothers you is because –"

"Because _WHAT _Rachel, please, tell me! I am so fucking riveted."

Rachel went from gripping Santana's arm to holding her hand, "Because you don't want to tell anyone that maybe you're sick of pushing people away. The only reason you do it is because your friends abandoned you and things at home are tough. You have this job because you're helping your _abuela _pay medical bills. She's been in the hospital for three weeks and she's all you have in the world."

Santana's eyes went wide. Her vision blurred, and it felt like someone was clenching her throat. It was true. Abuela had been in the hospital and the only way she could help was by working this damn job. It was the only reason she'd gotten this job in the first place. She was gaping, eyes distant as they looked past Rachel. She couldn't bare to face her accuser because Rachel was right.

"You dropped this last shift," Rachel whispered, pressing an envelope addressed to her abuela. It was the hospital bill she had torn up the house looking for. "I ran out to the lot to get you but you'd driven away by then. I knew if I gave it back to you at school, you'd laugh in my face and go back to ignoring me." The diva's voice was too soft for Santana to handle

Warm tears dripped from her cheeks, landing on her palm. She shoved the bill in her pocket and wiped her face. She couldn't look at Rachel, not now. She wiped her face and turned around. "Thanks." It was all she could say.

"Santana, aren't you going to talk to someone about this?"

"No." She slammed her locker door shut and made sure she was in her car and out of the lot by the time Rachel made it out there.

###

Santana didn't know if she was furious or if she was relieved. Rachel had gotten to the core of her issues, at least the ones she was dealing with lately, and she'd uncovered the vulnerable part of the Latina without even breaking a sweat.

Even when she was at home, she felt herself fuming.

"Cuzzo," her little cousin, Marcus, was swinging his legs back and forth while shoveling a mouthful of Lucky Charms down his throat. Milk dribbled down his chin, and Santana reached over with a rag, wiping the milk from his chin and throat. He was eight, but he'd yet to master the art of eating. "Why are you so quiet tonight? Is it _abuela_?"

"No, buddy, she's okay," Santana offered a smile. "I just had a hard couple days at work, that's all."

"Okay," true to the nature of a child, he shrugged and went back to scarfing down his food.

Santana went back to the stack of bills on the table. Utilities had been paid, phone bill, and as she was calculating the cost of Nana's most recent medical bill beside how much she was making, she realized she might have to pick up more hours.

"You know we made these really neat masks today. They were like lions and stuff, and graffs," Marcus' legs swung back and forth. "And I made one for myself and cut the eyes out of it," the boy spoke fast, and his enthusiasm made Santana smile. She stopped what she was doing, focused on the little boy. His face would one day fill out and he'd be a player with all the girls after him. His mother, Santana's biological aunt, was half African and half Cuban. She'd been deported four years ago when the boy was only 2. Santana's mother, who was three quarters Cuban and a quarter Haitian, had moved with her boyfriend to San Francisco when she was about Marcus's age. She and Marcus had both been raised by their now ailing grandmother.

"Did you bring it home?"

Marcus nodded, and Santana rubbed his fuzzy little head as she got up and got the mask out of his backpack. "Is this it?"

"It's a zebra! 'Member that time when we were at the zoo and the zebra was running around all fast? That's when I realized I liked zebras. They're my favorite because they're pretty and I think I want one for Christmas. Do you think _abuela _will buy me one?"

"We'll see," Santana laughed, setting the mask down beside him. "Finish your cereal. You're such a messy eater," she reached over with the damp rag, wiping his face again.

"You're always working and filling out those papers," he continued to talk through mouthfuls of lucky charms.

"Someone's gotta fill out these papers, little man, and you can't read yet."

"I can too! I read to one of the girls in my class because we were playing house and I pretended I had glasses and was readin' the paper to her, like Nana used to do for us you know. When is she coming home?"

Santana tried her best not to frown. She took a breath, rested her chin on her palm and narrowed her eyes, "Well, as soon as the doctors say she can."

"Can we see her this weekend if she's not home yet?"

Santana nodded. "Of course. I promise. How about I take you Friday?"

"After school?"

Santana held out her pinkie, to which her cousin responded by twisting his own around it and pulling their hands forward. He kissed the cup of his hand, and Santana pulled their hands her way and kissed the cup of her own hand. "Pinkie swear."

She filled out the last check for the evening, sealing it in an envelope and setting the stack on the counter to be mailed tomorrow on the way to school. Marcus finished eating and bounced himself into the living room. He turned on Spongebob, and Santana watched the boy from the kitchen for a little bit.

What would she do if something happened? Could she really take care of her cousin? Her mother was good for nothing and his mother sent what she could from Cuba, but getting anything from Cuba to the U.S. took a long damn time. Customs always flagged any money she sent to help support her son, and she couldn't legally immigrate back.

The weight of it was heavy on her shoulders, and in that moment she wished she had someone to talk to.

The doorbell rang. When Santana went to open the door, she realized no one should be ringing the doorbell this late. It was 9 p.m. Santana frowned, felt for the knife in her pocket and kept her hand over it as she unlocked the door.

Rachel was standing there, a coat wrapped around her. A car was idling in her driveway. A large black man waved at her. Leroy, she guessed. "Hey," Rachel spoke first, since she must have realized Santana was too shocked to say anything. "I wanted to apologize."

"At 9 in the evening?" Santana was more than a little confused.

"Yeah," the brunette tucked her hands in her pockets. "I was wondering if you wanted company for a few hours. I have a midnight curfew and Daddy said I could come over."

Santana was going to say something sarcastic and send her away when she felt a warm arm wrap around her leg. Marcus was leaning against her. "Who's this?"

Rachel didn't wait for Santana to answer. She crouched in front of the boy and offered her hand, "Hi, I'm Rachel. I'm Santana's … friend from school."

"Oh," he reached out and shook her hand animatedly, "My name is Troy Marcus Lopez and it's nice to meet you," he recited his name. "My friends call me Marcus. I guess you can call me Marcus, too."

Rachel glowed, laughing a little bit as the boy bounced away and laid flat on the couch. He was too enamored with the television to say anything further. When Rachel stood again, she met Santana's eyes and held her gaze there. "Would you like some company? If you don't, I'll turn around and we can forget I was here." Her voice was soft, so as not to travel in Marcus's direction.

It took Santana some thought before she nodded cautiously. "Sure," she cleared her throat. She watched Rachel trot over to the car idling in the driveway, kiss her father on the cheek, and wave as he left. Letting Rachel in, she locked the door behind her and felt a little perplexed. How had Rachel even known where she lived? She didn't know whether to be flattered or creeped out.

Then again, she had been wishing for someone to talk to. "I have to put him to bed in 15 minutes, and then we can talk. I guess."

Rachel nodded. She sat down on one of the slightly broken-down chairs. Santana felt a little awkward and as she sat down on the couch, she pulled Marcus into her lap. The boy barely noticed. He was picking at his sleeve and laid his head on Santana's shoulder. The three of them watched Spongebob together, and Santana rocked her cousin until he started to yawn.

9:30 came and went. Santana carried the sleepy boy up the stairs, his arms and legs swinging a little loose on either side of her. Rachel followed them up the stairs. The house was small, so Santana didn't think she needed to give Rachel a tour of the place. Upstairs were three very small bedrooms – one for Santana, one for Marcus, and one for Nana.

Santana flicked on the dim light in Marcus's room. It was a mess in there, but she hadn't had time to help him clean his room. She knew the things they had were mostly hand-me-downs and definitely looked like it, but she didn't feel the same kind of shame she had the first time she'd had Quinn in her house. Somehow she knew Rachel wouldn't judge her for it.

The Latina covered Marcus up, kissed him gently on his cheek. "Night, handsome," she murmured quietly. Marcus reached up, seemingly unaware of Rachel in his doorway, and wrapped his arms around Santana's neck.

"I love you, Cuzzo," his voice was drowsy and his syllables heavy.

"Love you, too." Santana whispered and brushed her fingers through his thick hair. She'd have to take him to the barber in a week or so. Either that or she'd have to pick it out, and sometimes it hurt Marcus's head when she did that. She turned the light off and closed the door behind her. She motioned to the stairs as Rachel backed up to allow her room to get out.

Rachel nodded, and Santana could hear her footsteps padding lightly behind her as they went into the living room. Santana turned the television to another channel and let the volume stay where it was, since it would cover any conversation they might have. She filled a glass with cold water, and set it in front of Rachel. She sat beside the brunette, chewing on her bottom lip nervously.

"Why did you come?"

"I had a feeling you wanted to talk to someone."

"Oh, you're psychic," Santana sighed, pulling her knees to her chest. Beside her, Rachel scooted closer.

"No. Usually when people almost cry, they have something to talk about."

"Well, you already know my big secret. So, what now?"

Rachel sighed, and Santana felt fingers moving stray black hairs behind her ear. The skin tingled where Rachel touched. Santana ignored it. "Your cousin is really sweet."

"Thanks," the taller girl glanced beside her, not directly at Rachel but at the space she occupied.

"Is it just the three of you?"

Santana nodded, sucking on her bottom lip and avoiding eye contact.

"You're really good with him, you know. I knew you were .. human, but I didn't think you were a nurturer, too."

Santana arched an eyebrow and was about to say something vicious but she realized Rachel was smiling at her. "Hah," she responded quietly. More seriously, she added, "He needs somebody now. Our only 'parent' is in the hospital."

"You need someone, too," Rachel spoke even softer. She was resting her head on the back of the couch, eyes trained on Santana.

Santana didn't answer. She wasn't ready to admit that.

"I wanted to say sorry if I came off too aggressive before. I wasn't trying to upset you. I just … I wanted you to talk. I wanted you to admit that something was wrong in your life, something that really bothered you. I guess that was … wrong of me," Rachel was picking at her shirt, and sighed to herself. "It was the wrong way to do it. And I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," Santana fidgeted, looking a little grim.

Rachel shook her head. She must have realized that Santana wasn't going to look at her unless she was forced to, because she sat on the coffee table in front of Santana, shoulders crouched so the Latina had no choice but to look at her. "You try really hard to isolate yourself because you figure if you're a bitch, no one can hurt you. If you're behind a wall, nobody can touch you. I see you every day, fighting down emotional reactions and coming up with horrible things to say, just so nobody sees past all the … bullshit," the brunette's hands covered Santana's.

She was making Santana nervous in a different way. There was no way to channel her emotions, her anxiousness, if she couldn't fidget or shoot sarcastic barbs at Rachel. She chewed on her bottom lip, eyes darting from Rachel's face to her hands, where the brunette's thumbs were drawing circles over Santana's skin. Rachel was making her face her _feelings _and fuck if it wasn't a serious pain in the ass thing to do. Santana bounced her legs up and down a little. Rachel freed a hand and pressed Santana's knee down so she couldn't bounce her legs anymore.

"Tell me how you're feeling," Rachel's voice lowered and carried only in the space between them. "Talk to me."

"Annoyed."

"Good, what else?"

"Like I wanna call your father and tell him what an annoying little brat he raised."

Rachel laughed. "And?"

"Glad that you came," this part came softer. She lowered her eyes. "Scared that my nana isn't going to make it out of the hospital. Scared I'm going to have to raise a little boy all on my own. Scared that after all this I'm not going to have my nana to tell me everything's going to be okay because this is the third time in a year she's been in the hospital with a lung infection. Pissed off that I have a stack of bills in the kitchen that I can't pay. Even more pissed off that I have to even _consider _quitting school so I can work full time to make ends meet." Her mouth was running away with her and suddenly she couldn't stop the outflow of emotion, bottled up for far too damn long. "Kinda pissed that you're making me talk about this because the more I talk about it the more I feel like fucking .. crying."

Rachel was running her hands over Santana's arms now, her legs on either side of Santana's as she closed the gap between her and Santana, still seated on the coffee table. She was just listening. It wasn't like talking to Quinn or Brittany. They didn't just listen to her. They tried to offer advice or asked clarifying questions.

"I'm really mad that my mother won't answer my phone calls even though I leave messages telling her what's going on. She's living God knows where with a dick of a boyfriend. She left me when I was Marcus's age. I get pissed when I realize all my _abuela _had to go through just to raise me and how ungrateful I was until the last few years. And then I just get really fucking sad because I realize I never thanked her and if she dies in that place," her eyes started to get a little blurry, burning with salt tears. Suddenly she was covering her mouth to stifle the sobbing sound coming from her throat.

And Rachel was there, gathering Santana's quietly crying frame into her arms and hushing her gently. For the first time in a long time, Santana Lopez was crying in front of another human being. She was crying hard enough to feel her chest aching. Her _abuela _could very well die and then she'd be left with the huge responsibility of raising a child and she realized, as her hands gripped Rachel's shirt, that she was a little angry about it. When she realized _that_, she found herself wrapping her arms fully around Rachel and gripping her shoulders.

"Santana Lopez, I'm sorry you've had to carry this weight by yourself," Rachel pulled back, cupping Santana's jaw with her hands and forcing the Latina to look her in the eyes. Her thumb wiped stray tears from Santana's cheek. "I'm sorry, and I'm sorry this is happening."

Santana wanted to cry more at this, but she settled for sucking in air and trying to maneuver her hands around Rachel's so she could wipe her tears first. During all of this, Rachel didn't budge. Her thumb still darted to catch stray tears.

She'd never seen such a kind gaze directed at her, one that was so full of sincerity that it made her hurt all the more. Santana was sure the girl was going to give some platitude about the fact that she wasn't alone and that she had a best friend forever or whatever, but instead she had to catch her breath when Rachel leaned forward and pressed her lips to Santana's forehead. It was gentle and it lingered, a comforting and platonic kiss and it wasn't what Santana had expected.

Silently, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Rachel. Without asking, and without needing to be asked, the brunette held Santana to her. Even so, she felt a kind of shock running through her core. She had needed someone to be there for her, and now that she had it, Santana felt like it was okay to let her emotions out.

"Thank you," she whispered quietly later that evening as Rachel was leaving. She reached out and grasped Rachel's hand, held it for a moment. It was enough for now to know that someone would be there when she broke down.


	2. Kind Of

**Pairing:** Rachel/Santana

**Synopsis:** (2 of 10) Santana might be … sort of … becoming friends with Rachel. Maybe. Or maybe she just needs a little moral support.

**Author's Note:** Lyrics from "I Couldn't Be Your Friend" by Tegan and Sara. I think the longest Pezberry fic I wrote was 8 chapters long, and I remember even then thinking it was too short (or too brief in terms of me getting to enjoy it). So, I decided to put effort into a fic that gave the Pezberry fandom some long-term satisfaction; every time I find a Pezberry fic it's a one-shot or painfully short, and … well, I love me some Pezberry. Oh, and later in the chapter the movie _The Other Guys _is mentioned and if you haven't seen it, I highly suggest it for some great laughs. Thank you for the feedback and the support – I hope you all continue to enjoy this.

###

**TWO:** Friends, kind of.

_Do you crumble?  
Do your worst (oh, oh, oh, oh-OH-oh-oh)  
Do you tumble?  
Do your worst (oh, oh, oh, oh-OH-oh-oh)_

###

"Nana!" Marcus pulled away from Santana the moment they stepped through the door to their abuela's hospital room. The little boy's feet padded along the marble floor and he hopped on the aging woman's bed.

"You look good," Santana followed up, just as eager as Marcus but a little more composed. She pulled a chair beside her grandmother's bed and took a frail hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," the elderly woman smiled and squeezed her granddaughter's hand as tightly as she could; beside her, Marcus tucked himself under her arm. "How's school, my boy? Is your sister keeping you in line?"

Santana chuckled. Abuela had always insisted that they should consider one another siblings, not cousins; in the Latina's mind, the two had very little distinction. It was still nice being called someone's sister, though.

"Cuzzo makes sure I do my homework. I made this for you," Marcus pulled something small from his pocket. "We braided this today in class during free time. It's a bracelet." He lay the thing in the woman's lap and looked up at her.

"It's beautiful, my little boy," Nana ruffled his hair, and squeezed him close. "Santana, will you put it on for me?" She held the bracelet out to Santana. Obliging, she tied it around her abuela's wrist, making sure it was tight enough so that it wouldn't fall off. "Just right," she showed Marcus and hugged him again.

"Doctor says you might be able to go home next week," Santana stated hopefully. "We miss you at home."

"I miss you both a great deal," she took Santana's hand again and held it. The way she looked at Santana said that there was something they needed to discuss. Biting back the knot in her throat, Santana's eyebrows knit together.

"Hey, Marcus, will you do me a favor and see if the nurse will show you where to get Nana some bottled water?"

"Sure," he hopped off the bed and trotted out into the hallway.

"Santana, in case something happens –" Abuela saw Santana start to protest and held her hand firmly, tugging on it just enough to stop her from talking, "we need to have this discussion. I'm not always going to be able to leave this hospital. I know this isn't what you want to hear but I need you to listen."

Santana swallowed a knot in her throat. Her nostrils stung the way they did just before her eyes teared up. She fought it and nodded. She stroked the wrinkled skin of her grandmother's hand, memorizing it.

"You've been taking care of things, paying bills, and my poor grandchild," the old woman sighed, "God knows I thank you for all you've done. I am so proud of you," at these last three words, her abuela lifted Santana's hand and set it down again, as if each action was a phonetic marker, "and I don't want to lump more responsibility on to your shoulders, but you are all your cousin has. You must love him always as a brother. Always."

Santana nodded in agreement. Her chin started to quiver and her eyes watered up. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her tears. When she realized she wasn't going to be able to stop herself from crying, she rested her head on the bed near her abuela's legs.

"Now, now," Nana hushed softly, "listen."

Santana gave a weak acknowledgement and sniffled. She had to keep control. "I'm listening," her voice cracked.

"In my will, I've left custody to you. This you already know. I'm leaving everything to you. I need you to promise me to always love him, and take care of him. I pray that I will live long enough to see that I don't pass that burden on to you, but God only knows." Abuela let go of Santana's hand and smoothed the dark hair under her frail hands, "I may get out of the hospital this time, but I needed you to know that – just in case I don't leave here – there is a safe under the bed with all of your grandfather's savings and half of my own. There are a few legal papers as well. The combination is written on the back of our family _foto._"

Santana memorized all of this and nodded solemnly, "I understand." As she was pulling herself together and massaging the worried tension from her mouth, the nurse and Marcus came in. The boy ran over to his abuela and hopped on the bed, handing her the water.

"How long can we stay?" He asked eagerly.

"Visiting hours end at six," the nurse informed kindly, checking a few instruments. "Is there anything I can get you?" The younger man – probably a med student or a student nurse – touched her forehead as if to feel if there was visible fever.

"No, thank you," Santana answered for her. As the man left, she sat on the other side of the bed and wrapped her arms around her nana, careful not to disturb any of the medical equipment.

She and Marcus stayed til six that night. Nana was totally exhausted and half-asleep by the time they left. Marcus was ecstatic with having seen the older woman he loved so much, and it was hard keeping a hold of his hand as he skipped down the hallway. It was a much more sobering experience for Santana, who drove home acknowledging Marcus' chatter but not participating. By the time she tucked the boy in, three hours later, she felt drained of everything that kept her running. She kind of considered skipping school tomorrow, but that would set a really bad example. She couldn't just skip because she was sad. Even though, Santana admitted to herself, she certainly was dealing with a lot more than your average high school student.

###

Santana Lopez did not sit alone at lunch. Ever.

Except … well, she did. And she was often sitting alone these days. Her lack of communication with Quinn and Britt about what was going on, on top of her obvious moodiness and tendency to threaten people with bodily injury had kept her quite solitary lately.

So as she chowed down on the mystery meat, Santana glared over at the table Rachel sat at. Rachel Berry was surrounded by friends. Santana was not. And it kind of pissed her off. Then again, she didn't want to think about why it did because that would mean admitting she kind of wished she _really, genuinely _didn't give a shit about whether or not Rachel was sitting next to her. 'Cause she did, especially now when she was dealing with a shit-storm of emotion and turmoil at home.

And it kind of bothered her that things didn't change between her and Rachel at school. They got along at work, but they really hadn't spoken since Rachel stopped over the night she'd gotten her to open up. Okay, Santana contributed because whenever Rachel gave her that concerned look and asked if the Latina needed to talk about anything, she shrugged her shoulders and said everything was fine.

Everything wasn't fine. Santana wasn't fine.

She was in the middle of drawing an angry face on the table with a permanent marker when she felt eyes on her. Santana looked up, spotted Rachel coming her way, and nonchalantly piled all her wrappers on top of the part of the table she was vandalizing.

"I know you won't ask me to come over," Rachel spoke softly enough that nobody heard them. She didn't even sit down; maybe she thought it would stain Santana's reputation for being some badass. _Some badass. Whining about sitting alone. _The brunette's hands were folded in front of her as she addressed Santana cooly, though the way she held Santana's gaze was enough to let the Latina know there was more Rachel wanted to say or do, "and I know you won't agree to come over. If you can find a babysitter for Marcus," and here Santana realized that Rachel had been putting thought into this, "I'm getting the Glee club together tonight. It's sort of a big dinner and movie night at my house. I want you to come."

"And make nice with everyone like any of them give a shit about me?" Santana arched an eyebrow, tilting her head just enough for Rachel to get the idea that she didn't like charity. She folded her arms over her chest.

"And make nice with everyone because your _friend _asked you to. Because I want to spend extra-curricular time with you but we won't get to that point if I don't convince you that you'll enjoy the company of other human beings," Rachel stood her ground. Those honey-brown eyes pinned Santana where she was. "And you need to be a teenager, just for a while." The diva said this last part soft enough that nobody heard. It struck Santana that when she spoke this soft and kept her words from the reach of everyone around them, it wasn't for her own sake or for popularity's sake, but because she knew that Santana would feel vulnerable and possibly betrayed if Rachel had let anyone know that the Latina wasn't an impenetrable fortress with no problems and no concern for anyone else.

Santana slackened her arms a little, slouched forward, and pushed the wrappers away from her vandalism. She continued drawing, unable to take the kindness or Rachel's gaze directly. She shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose I'll see what I can do."

Rachel was smiling at her, no doubt, but Santana didn't acknowledge her departure. That is, she waited for Rachel to make it halfway back to her table before looking up. Her own gaze softened as Rachel sat down, and the diva caught Santana's eyes. They matched gazes long enough for Santana to take a breath and wrinkle her eyebrows in reaction to the swelling warmth in her chest.

###

"Now remember, bed by 9 and don't argue with the babysitter, okay?" Santana was zipping up Marcus's coat for him. She had gotten a babysitter for the night, though she didn't think she would. She'd called the parent of Marcus's best friend and asked if it was okay for them to watch him for the night. Marcus had of course been ecstatic because he was 8 years old and slumber parties were like Christmas to him. Luckily they'd agreed. "I'll pick you up tomorrow after school. Be good for them. Don't stay up or be all loud, promise?" She held out her pinky and they swore, smacking kisses on their hands.

Santana hugged the boy as tightly as she could, and she grinned as she pulled away and he gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. She laughed a little, and stood. "I really appreciate this." The mother who'd come to pick Marcus up waved the gratitude away.

"I was a teenager once. I'm afraid you probably don't get much of a chance for that," the woman seemed to understand, though the details of their home life didn't make their rounds that much. She gave a small wave goodbye before ushering Marcus to the car.

Santana waited for the car to disappear down the street before heading upstairs to get her keys. She checked all the locks in the house, checked her phone in case the hospital called, and headed out. Driving to Rachel's didn't take long, but it was long enough for her to second-guess her decision to go over there about three times.

By the time she knocked on the door, she was still considering turning around, until Rachel answered the door. Santana arched a questioning eyebrow. She hesitated only for a moment, and gently pushed past Rachel before the brunette could invite her in. Rachel was quick behind her, and she could tell because she felt the brunette's hand on the center of her back, fingers gripping her shirt to slow her down.

"Hey," Rachel said softly, her other hand gripping Santana's arm so she could get Santana to face her. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but didn't immediately. Her eyes darted around, checking to see they didn't have an audience. "I didn't know if you'd come."

"You invited me," Santana responded simply. Though she was speaking in the same way she would have with anyone else, her words lacked any sharp edges. She felt Rachel's fingers grab her own, and slip up her palm. Their hands remained that way just for a second – but it didn't mean Santana didn't feel her heart beat irregularly in response.

"Obviously," Rachel gave a quiet smile, narrowing an eye at the Latina. "Thank you for coming," her voice was soft. "Is … everything – "

Santana leaned forward, gripped Rachel's shoulder and met her eyes directly, "Everything's fine."

Rachel nodded.

Santana didn't really want to go into the details of her family life in front of anyone, even though as time had gone on she had fewer qualms about confiding in Rachel. She just didn't want to do so in front of the whole glee club. As if to assure Rachel she wasn't blowing her off, Santana checked down the hall for peering eyes before she motioned for a hug. When Rachel wrapped her arms around her neck and hugged her body close, it was … kind of nice. Santana squeezed her close for a moment before she let her go.

She strode into the living room as if these people should be glad she was there. The party consisted of Puck, Sam, Finn, Artie, Mike, Tina, Brittany, and Quinn. Kurt must have had better things to do. Or rather he and Mercedes, since they weren't there either. They weren't exactly Santana's biggest fans, so she didn't mind.

Brittany waved at her, and Quinn nodded in Santana's direction.

"Okay!" Rachel was quick behind Santana, clapping her hands like she was teaching a class. "I have a fun schedule planned for us."

"Rachel, honestly," Quinn spoke up, "I think we can do without coordinated events."

"Yeah! Movie time!" He smiled brilliantly at their hostess and winked at her in a friendly sort of way. Finn obliged his request and leaned forward, grabbing the remote and pressing play.

Rachel looked a little huffy but any protest she might have had was silenced by the TV.

"Hey," Santana caught the brunette's gaze. To keep up pretenses, she cleared her throat. "Shut off the light," she stated – though between the two of them, working together had given them a better understanding of nuance and Santana was secure in the knowledge Rachel wouldn't take it as an insult or a demand.

Rachel may have rolled her eyes, but the hint of a smile on her lips was enough to make Santana chuckle. The exchange went unnoticed by the group as Rachel flipped the light switch. She disappeared only for a moment, and when Santana's attention was directed at the television, she felt warmth at her side and the pressure of someone leaning against her just a little. If she hadn't smelt Rachel's perfume, her first reaction would be to move away. "Here you go," Rachel murmured quietly below the sound of the movie. She placed a cold can of soda in Santana's hand.

Santana nodded in thanks, catching Rachel's lingering eyes just for a second before cracking the can open and sipping at it.

The Latina probably spent more of the movie paying attention to everyone else than anything. She'd noticed dynamics in the group changing around a bit – Quinn and Sam were kind of inseparable outside of classes, but it was because they had a kind of bromance going on. No sex, because Sam was dating Mercedes and pretty faithful to her. Brittany spent her time with Artie – of course. Finn and Puck were _totally BFFs, _Santana reflected a little sarcastically in her head. Mike and Tina were practically married.

Kurt, Mercedes, Quinn, and Sam were a weird mixture but they seemed to get on well. Since Kurt and Mercedes were obviously having some kind of spa night elsewhere, that meant Sam and Quinn were playing wonder-twins tonight.

That left herself and Rachel. Santana reflected on both the nature of her place in the group – which was to say no place at all – and her seemingly blossoming friendship with Rachel. It was funny how the diva had managed to manipulate herself into Santana's life and in her head. It's not like it bothered her now, but it was certainly something she never would have expected.

Santana sipped at her soda and tried her best to focus on the movie; the guys had chosen some semi-actioney flick. It apparently had some comedy though because Rachel burst into laughter beside her – it was loud until Rachel covered her mouth to finish the laugh a little quieter. The Latina leaned forward, reaching between Sam and Quinn and grabbing the DVD case.

"_The Other Guys,_" she read aloud quietly. On the television she heard Mark Wahlberg was yelling 'You gotta let me fly!'

Seemingly, Santana caught Rachel's attention because when she looked back up, Rachel was giving her a slight smile. The Latina narrowed her eyes just a bit, an eyebrow arched, but she couldn't help the quirk at the corner of her lip that gave away her smile. Rachel bit her bottom lip and laughed quietly, as if they shared some kind of private joke.

There was a kind of weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't _bad, _exactly. It just wasn't something she was really used to feeling. Santana felt Rachel lean on her just a little more and the warmth of the diva's arm against hers was .. nice. In a way. Santana hated to admit it, but Rachel had grown on her since they started working together.

She didn't notice much about the movie, and it was probably a quarter of the way through, but she did notice the way she could see Rachel's chest rise and fall with each subtle breath; she noticed when the brunette shifted her legs, noticed when Rachel made a new expression, noticed when her hands settled somewhere else beside her, or when she fidgeted with her hair. It was as if someone took a microscope and Santana was seeing through it – out of the corner of her eye because she didn't want to be a creep and stare, but she _noticed._

Noticing Rachel was weirdly kind of comforting. She was glad now that she had come. Even though she loved Marcus, it was nice to get away from the little guy. It was nice to get away from being worried, stressed, or sad.

She felt fingers on her forearm, Rachel tugging gently on the fabric there. The brunette's eyebrows were knit together; she must have mistaken Santana's pensive look for distress. The Latina didn't move Rachel's hand though she felt like maybe she should. She made a weird decision.

Her hand made the decision, anyway. Santana wouldn't consciously make that kind of decision, the one her hand made. Her hand had lifted and settled itself briefly over Rachel's, pressing the brunette's hand to her arm a little more. When Santana realized what she was doing and the fact Rachel looked just as surprised as she felt, she let Rachel's hand go and tugged at her own ear as if she was trying to wake herself up from some weird stupor. She stared at the television, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Her heart had done this fluttering thing. And she wasn't sure if she liked it. Okay, she kind of liked it.

###

Movies two and three weren't as eventful. They'd stopped after the third movie for a pizza break – the Berry men had brought home a stack of pizzas for everyone and then done the parental disappearing act while the teenagers tore apart the food.

Most of the group stayed gathered in the kitchen, laughing with food in their mouths and emptying cans of soda by the six-pack. Santana wasn't as jovial, but she was cracking a few smiles and making jokes with Sam by the time she finished her fill of pizza.

"Hey, Rachel, do you think we could take a dip in your pool?"

"Puck, it's like … 50 degrees outside."

"Come on," he pleaded with Rachel, tugging on the short girl's arm. Quinn was laughing, downing her soda.

"Just a dip," Quinn added over the noise, flashing her pinkie as a means of pinkie promising, "We promise."

"You guys are crazy."

When Rachel finally rolled her eyes and agreed, the group of teenagers went howling into the backyard, shoving and pulling one another into the no-doubt freezing pool. Santana remained in the kitchen, an eyebrow arched. She blinked rapidly in confusion and laughed.

"It's seriously freezing out there," Santana looked at Rachel, who only nodded in a resigned kind of way.

"Oh my god, it's _freezing!_" Finn was shouting into the night, as if he were confirming what Rachel said.

Santana burst into a short laugh, rolling her head back. "I can't believe these people sometimes."

Rachel was laughing, too, covering her mouth in amusement and disbelief as more shouts and laughter came from the backyard. The brunette grasped Santana's arm, still laughing, and pressed her forehead against Santana's shoulder briefly.

For a moment, Santana felt like a real teenager. It swelled inside her, a kind of emotional joy and release. "Hey … Rachel," she began with a wolfish grin.

"Oo-ooh no you do not, don't even think about it," Rachel was backing away from Santana and batting away Santana's hands, but she wasn't quick enough because Santana hoisted her over her shoulder, ass in the air, and ran through the double doors leading to the pool.

"Geronimo!" She shouted into the night, and the glee club parted with hoots and howls. Santana toppled with Rachel in her arms, landing them both in the bone-chilling water. Both she and Rachel came up laughing just as hard as anyone else in the pool. There was shoving and splashing, and when Rachel finally got a hold of her the brunette was shivering out playful threats and clinging to Santana.

Santana didn't care if anyone said something about Rachel clinging to her, because even though she was freezing her ass off, she had a moment where she realized something about Rachel.

In a very short time, Rachel had become the most trusted person in her life. Without Santana asking, and with plenty of resistance on Santana's part, Rachel had managed to get inside the Latina's mind, managed to get inside her heart. She'd been there, forced Santana to find comfort in her. So when her eyes met Rachel's, the brunette clinging to her and wiping water from her face stopped laughing and seemed to gulp. Santana searched Rachel's face; their moment was hidden amongst the chaos of yelling and splashing. Nobody saw them.

Santana saw Rachel, though. Really _saw _her. Saw the person she was, the kindness that she radiated constantly. Emotion smacked her in the face, and the Latina had to draw in a very visibly large breath to get a hold of the dizzy feeling rolling over her. Rachel's hands were on her shoulders, and since Santana had her by the waist, Rachel was looking down at her for probably the first time.

Rachel breathed out some droplets of water, the light from the pool water playing off Rachel's face. Santana was a little overwhelmed because holy shit was she finding Rachel attractive? Not just attractive but … _beautiful _in a totally non-physical way. She could feel her fingers gripping Rachel's waist under water. Her heart stuttered in her chest as soon as she felt Rachel's fingers slip up the side of her neck and catch some of Santana's soaked hair.

"Holy shit," Santana's words came out as a kind of 'what the fuck' reaction. Rachel's breath visibly hitched at about the same time.

And then Sam grabbed Rachel from behind and rolled her under the water like an alligator might and nobody had noticed their moment. The chaos and splashing continued, with Quinn finally tackling Santana and the pair ending up raucous with laughter.

But Santana's heart was still pounding by the time she climbed out of the pool and towels were passed out. When Rachel handed her a towel their eyes met for just a moment longer than usual, but other than that no more anomalies sent Santana's heart flying for a greater part of the night.

It got late quick, and by the time they had cleaned out the pizza boxes of any and all scraps of cheese and gotten themselves warm and dry, everyone settled in the living room for an overnight marathon of "The Office." Most of the glee clubbers hadn't planned on staying the night but true to being young and in high school, they were comfortable passing out on the floor in semi-dry clothing.

Rachel, however, was obviously lucky enough to have dry pajamas. By the time she seemed to think of it, everyone else was passed out. That is… everyone besides Santana, who was shoveling a handful of chips into her mouth like she was alone at home. Rachel scrutinized her from the doorway, laughing quietly before motioning for Santana to follow her.

The Latina followed her up the stairs with a skeptical look. "You realize if people wake up they're going to barge into your bedroom."

"I know, that's why you're going to stand guard at my door," Rachel answered intelligently, as if she'd thought of a great idea and knew it.

Santana rolled her eyes but followed.

"Do you want some dry clothes?"

"Please," Santana answered, "as long as it doesn't have gross animal prints or whatever on it. I know your taste in clothing has changed a little bit but those nerd sweaters of yours were only fashionable for like a day."

Rachel gave Santana a stern look. She lead the Latina into her room and when Santana got a fill of Rachel's room – pretty much exactly the way she expected it to look – she got a face-full of cotton-polyester blend. Rachel had thrown a hoodie at her and a pair of sweatpants just after. Santana scrambled to catch both and sent Rachel a healthy glare.

"Now, I'm going to get dressed, and you watch the door, then you can get dressed," Rachel directed simply, boxers and t-shirt in her hands. Santana shrugged her shoulders and watched as the shorter girl disappear into her bathroom. She heard the door click shut and sat down on the bed. Though Rachel's bedroom door was closed, she listened for any footsteps coming up the stairs. Luckily she didn't hear any.

Santana found her mind replaying the moment in the pool; it had only been a moment, but it had seemed like one of those moments in a movie that gets put in slow motion. The look in Rachel's eyes had been something Santana needed to think about. She also needed to think about why Rachel making the conscious decision to draw her fingers up the side of Santana's neck made her heart race. Why that weird little anomalous moment left Santana a little shaken inside. Nothing had ever felt like that with anyone. Sure, she'd had feelings and reactions but never something that made her feel like she couldn't breathe.

Rachel interrupted her musing and circled the bed, "Your turn," the diva faced her full-length mirror as she brushed the back of her hair and tied it up in a neat ponytail. She ran her stupid pink brush through her bangs, and Santana simply gave a nod before heading into Rachel's bathroom. She was trying not to make a big deal or read into anything that had happened, and maybe it was just because she was emotionally volatile with everything going on at home, but … still, that moment played in her mind.

She pulled the warm sweater over her head after hanging her damp clothes over Rachel's tub, and then the sweatpants. They had to sit a little low on her hips since Rachel was a couple inches shorter than her. She tugged the hoodie down over her hips just to be sure her skin wasn't all out there for everyone to see.

"Where do you want to sleep?" Rachel asked as Santana came out of the bathroom. The shorter girl was sitting on the bed, her hands folded beneath her legs, and she was sitting on her calves. "Everyone's already passed out and there's not a ton of room down there."

"I don't have a problem with it. There's enough room on the couch to pass out."

"Okay," Rachel got up from the bed and grabbed a couple blankets. When she only handed one to Santana, the Latina blanked. Recognizing the expression, apparently, Rachel spoke, "I'm not sleeping on a nice comfortable bed while everyone else sleeps on the floor or on a chair or on my couch."

It was so typical of Rachel. Santana chuckled low in her throat, shaking her head as she descended the stairs and Rachel followed her.

The Latina settled on the open couch, leaving enough room for Rachel on the other side of it. She tucked the blanket around her, and felt a weird sort of comfort from getting to be in Rachel's clothes and getting to use her blanket.

On the other end of the couch, Rachel had already laid down and begun to fall asleep.

There would be time to thank her tomorrow. She certainly deserved to be thanked. It wasn't every day Santana felt like a real teenager.

###

The next school day passed without any difference in routine. Even Rachel acted precisely the same, and the glee clubbers seemed tired but still somehow in a better mood because of the night. When Santana picked her cousin up from school, she was riding last night's 'high on life' feeling. Marcus chattered happily beside her, and she just as happily got involved in asking about his day and what he'd done at school.

Even her nana noticed how happy she was when she called to check on the woman. She'd asked if Santana was doing something she shouldn't, and the Latina had only laughed and assured her grandmother she was just in a good mood. She chatted with her abuela for a little bit before getting Marcus's supper ready.

Santana was also in a good mood because she was glad that she had a couple days off.

All the same, with the night before and how much she'd enjoyed the gathering Rachel orchestrated, she kind of wished she was working if only she could be around the diva. Rachel seemed to put her in a good mood, or at least a decent enough mood not to threaten anyone with violence (on her worse days).

"Hey buddy," Santana asked over supper. Marcus looked up from his dinner, "You wanna go see a movie?"

"Really? On a school night?" Marcus stood up on his chair, prompting Santana to laugh and motion for him to sit down.

"If you finish your supper, I'll take you to the movies."

Marcus scarfed down the food after that. He charged up the stairs afterward – while Santana did the dishes – to get dressed. The boy came down with his coat already zipped up. Santana couldn't help but grin at the boy's eagerness. She felt a lightness in her heart and hoped he'd never lose that childhood zeal. The sobering thought came that one day he might – one day too soon.

So she got her coat and made sure he knew that she was going to get him whatever snacks he wanted, because he, too, deserved a night to feel like a kid. He deserved a night that made him forget that his grandma was in the hospital again.

Santana felt a weird anxiousness as she got their tickets and came inside. Rachel wouldn't be expecting her. Of course, Marcus bounced in before her and practically climbed on the concession counter to see what candy they had. Santana didn't even have time to warn Rachel.

The brunette turned around at the sound of hands thudding onto the glass as Marcus pressed his face to it, "Well, hello there!" Rachel lit up, kneeling down so she could see Marcus through the other side of the glass. "Is your cuzzo taking you to a movie?"

"Yeah! We're gonna see that movie about the girl with the red hair and a crossbow –"

"I think it's just a regular bow," Santana corrected lightly. "Don't smoosh your face on the glass, man. I'll have to clean that next time if you do," she teased. Marcus removed himself from the glass and Rachel stood. Rachel's smile didn't falter when she saw Santana. In fact, it got just a little bigger.

"I didn't think I'd see you tonight," Rachel's voice softened in such a way that communicated she was glad to see Santana.

"I thought I'd treat him to some fun, too," Santana answered, but she wanted to hug Rachel or something. It was a new impulse she had to check. "So, we want a medium lemonade," she tugged Marcus to her side as he pointed excitedly to the M&M's, "some M&M's, and a small popcorn." She set the money on the counter and lifted Marcus into her arms.

Rachel rang them up and as she set the popcorn on the counter, Marcus leaned over in Santana's arms and grabbed it with both hands. Santana carried the M&M's in her pocket and the soda in her free hand. Rachel was watching with a kind of admiration.

The Latina gave a slight shake of her head and smiled as she turned around and headed into the theater. She didn't want to make things weird, or act like some big thing had happened between them, but inside things felt a little different now since their moment in the pool.

It was the last showing of the night, and Marcus was so busy asking questions and laughing as loud as he could at the movie that Santana barely noticed that they were the only ones in the theater. Though, when she did think about it, she realized it must've been a really slow night for Rachel. She glanced toward the double doors that lead to the concession stand, and she saw them slipping open.

Rachel had slipped in, and before Santana could catch her shadow with her eyes, she felt someone sit in the seat next to her. Santana felt herself move a little in surprise. She glanced over and smirked. "Shouldn't you be working?" she leaned over, her words barely a whisper so as not to distract Marcus.

"I'm pretty sure you should be," Rachel teased in just as quiet a voice. Their eyes met in the dark, both narrowed with a kind of playful glint. The gaze lasted long enough for Santana to take a quiet breath. Her eyes darted to the movie for a second, and as she handed Marcus his M&M's, she saw Rachel pull her legs up in her chair. Her knees were tilted toward Santana, but Rachel had looked away to watch the movie.

Santana allowed herself one moment to watch Rachel, openly. Probably for the first time since their peculiar and slow-blossoming friendship had started. It was just a moment, but long enough for Rachel to glance over in curiosity. Santana only offered a small grin before turning her eyes to the big screen. She wasn't really paying attention, but then again she didn't think Rachel was either.

It was the silence that seemed most loaded, particularly when Santana realized Rachel was looking at her with a slightly serious expression.

"Hey, I'm going to go to the bathroom, okay, buddy? Don't move from this seat," Santana instructed a little sternly. Getting the hint, Rachel stood up, too.

"Promise!" Marcus agreed without looking from the screen.

Santana followed Rachel out into the concession stand, and neither seemed particularly sure why they'd come out there or what they should say.

"How are you doing?" Rachel was the first to speak, and tilted her head forward a little as a way of getting Santana to look her in the eyes.

"Decent. Last night was honestly just what I needed," it was hard for Santana to do this. To be soft or kind, to have quiet conversations the way other people did. She had a hard time saying thank you, or sorry, or anything that had a lot of value to people. She didn't know why.

"Good," Rachel answered softly. The brunette was watchful for management, but when she seemed confident they were alone, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Santana's waist, pulling her into a semi-unexpected hug.

Santana felt Rachel's hands squeeze at her back momentarily just as she slipped her arms around Rachel in response. She wasn't used to this … wasn't used to being treated with kindness and affection. Things had been different with her other friends. Moments like this either hadn't happened this much or didn't seem to matter nearly as much as they did when they happened with Rachel. The Latina didn't notice herself exhaling in an expression of relief until after the fact. When they pulled away, Rachel stepped back just enough, though it seemed wrong for her hands to be folded over her stomach the way they were. Santana found, oddly enough, that she wished she could reach forward and just hold them for a second. Just for a second. She didn't, though.

However, she did reach a hand out and run it over Rachel's shoulder and arm, squeezing just at her elbow. Rachel seemed to watch this with rapt attention, and the brunette's hand covered Santana's and pressed there. Santana wanted to say something, but she didn't know what she was supposed to say. "Everything you've done, … I can't even … it doesn't seem like much but it means the world to me," she stated this in a way that gave away the fact she really had to think through every word she was saying. When Santana met Rachel's eyes, she consciously let her guard down, so if Rachel _could _see her emotions when she looked at her, then she'd see how much Santana meant what she was saying.

Rachel only smiled, nodded.

And that was it. That was the extent of it. No extended heartfelt conversation, but she felt like maybe their silence and the simplicity of what she said was enough to fill the space between them.

Santana headed back into the theater after she parted from Rachel, and sat next to Marcus. Truthfully, though, she wished Rachel would have come back in and sat next to her again. The credits rolled and Santana wished Rachel had been beside her. The brunette had work to do, though, so Santana talked herself out of being disappointed.

The pair waved at goodbye just briefly enough for Rachel to grin at Santana and stop what she was doing until they left. Marcus chatted animatedly in the car on the way home, and Santana felt the same lightness of heart from before. When she put him to bed that night, she hugged him tight and kissed his forehead.

It was weird admit, but Santana felt like Rachel was very, very slowly making her a more loving person. At least with the people who mattered. She tucked Marcus in with extra care and turned his light off that night feeling like something inside her was changing.

###

Abuela came home that weekend, much to Santana's relief. She was welcomed home with her favorite dinner and an extra-clean house. The little family spent most of that evening sharing dinner together and catching up on everything they'd been up to – and by that it was meant that Marcus shared everything he'd said, did, or thought for the last three weeks as if they hadn't been to visit her.

It was a good night. Abuela needed a little help getting around because the pneumonia had weakened her quite a bit, and she needed to have some new medical equipment hooked up in the bedroom. Santana felt a little concern that they'd reached _that _point of her nana's failing condition, but she was more than grateful that the aging woman had made it out of the hospital this time.

When her abuela had the little "talk" with her in the hospital, it had scared the shit out of her. Rightly so. The weekend was filled with conversation and family time – things normally no teenager every really looked forward to, but Santana treasured treasured it more than usual, which was for the best, because by the middle of that coming week, something went wrong.

Santana was at work mopping up in the bathroom when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. No one ever called her while she was at work. She stepped out of the bathroom, setting the mop beside the door.

Rachel was in the same area and immediately looked concerned. "Santana, you look like you're going to throw up."

The Latina's hands shook and she answered her phone without looking at the caller ID.

"Something's wrong with Nana," Marcus's voice was as panicked as an eight year old's could be. He knew something wasn't right and he was too little to know what to do or what could be wrong.

Santana felt like the air was sucked out of the room and tears filled her eyes. "What do you mean something's wrong with Nana?"

"She won't wake up."

Santana got dizzy and her knees gave out. Rachel surged forward, using her whole weight to support Santana and keep her from falling. The Latina's face crumpled in a pathetic way and she felt her racing in fear. She wanted to sob, but she had to hold it together for Marcus. She took a shaky breath, her free hand clutching Rachel so hard that she knew it must be hurting the shorter girl. She didn't say anything though. "Okay, listen very carefully. I want you to stay beside her and don't leave her. Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay," her voice trembled and she caught her breath. "I'm going to call the doctors and they'll send someone to get her. I'll be home in five minutes."

"Okay, Cuzzo," the little boy's voice trembled a bit before he hung up.

Santana hung up the phone – or rather, she dropped it and she felt herself growing dizzy with grief again. "I h-have.. have to call 911," she breathed the words but they felt like they were coming from someone else. When she disengaged herself from Rachel she realized she'd dropped her phone. The Latina leaned down and grabbed the phone, her hands shaking badly enough that she couldn't get it open.

Rachel took the phone from her without a word. She dialed 911, and Santana was in a daze; she moved around Rachel as if she were going to do something but she couldn't think of what to do. At some point, she was leaning against the counter with her head in her hands, listening to Rachel as if Rachel were speaking down some long tunnel.

"They're on their way to the house."

"I don't know if I can drive," Santana spoke. She wasn't present. She was some place far off, her gaze unfocused. She only barely realized Rachel was already ushering her into the passenger's seat, and vaguely heard Rachel arguing with their boss before she got in Santana's driver seat.

Rachel drove them to the house, and the paramedics were just arriving. Santana launched herself out of the car and ran in the house. Lights flashed, too brightly. Everything was bathed in red and blue lights, sirens. Paramedics were in Santana's living room, checking her nana for signs of consciousness. Santana didn't have time to react as they got her on a gurney and Marcus rushed to her, clung to her like a koala when she lifted him – despite the weakness she felt all over her body. "She's … she's our grandmother," she answered when a paramedic started asking questions. Too many questions.

Rachel was just behind her, and Santana felt her hands resting on her shoulders, rubbing there. She could barely feel a thing, couldn't think anything clearly at all. She held Marcus so tight that she wasn't sure if it was her shaking or Marcus.

"I'll ride with her," Santana stated as they asked who would be riding in the ambulance. "Rachel, .. will you …" She couldn't finish the question, but she didn't seem to need to. Rachel was taking Marcus from her arms and getting him in the car. Maybe she said something or she didn't, but Santana got in the ambulance knowing that Rachel would meet them there.

Her abuela looked pale, her lips a little discolored. She didn't feel any tears but she felt fear clawing at her insides. The paramedic riding beside her was still running checks on her vitals, and Santana could only watch. She thought she'd like to throw up and get rid of her anxiety but nothing would fix it.

Her legs weak, she followed the gurney into the hospital, and was vaguely aware of Rachel carrying Marcus through the doors as well. The doctor's stopped her at a large pair of swinging doors, and she stood there until Rachel came over and took her by the hand. She was led to a small waiting room, where Marcus climbed into her lap and clung there. She hushed his fears softly, rubbed his back. Over his shoulder, she could only stare at Rachel and try her best not to fall to pieces. The brunette was holding on to Santana's arm and occasionally rubbing it, offering what comfort she could.

About an hour into their wait, Santana dialed one of the parents that sometimes watched Marcus and asked them to come get him. He was already half-asleep from grief by the time the mother arrived. Santana tucked his jacket around him and looked him in the eyes as he got down, touching both sides of his face. She had to be strong.

"I promise everything's going to be okay. I promise. You have to make me a promise."

The boy nodded.

"You sleep tonight and you go to school in the morning like a good boy. I'll pick you up from school just like normal." Santana let her pinkie out, and twined it with his. They kissed their hands and let go. Santana took him in one last hug, kissing the side of his face. And then the little boy headed out of the hospital.

Santana thought she might break down if she didn't have to be strong for him, but she realized, head leaning against the wall, she was too afraid. She was totally numb. Rachel was sitting as closely as she could beside her, her arm looped through Santana's. She could feel Rachel sometimes watching her, keeping an eye on her. In a situation like this, she was glad Rachel knew that silence was best.

A doctor finally came to the room, knocking gently on the metal frame of the doorway before coming in, "Santana?"

Santana nodded, standing. Rachel stood beside her, wrapped an arm around her waist and holding her tightly there. The Latina was glad for the support, because a wave of dizziness struck her again.

The doctor took a breath and looked at his sheet, the way doctors seemed to when they were going to say something that wasn't easy to say, "I'm afraid she's not looking very well."

Santana's chin quivered and she nodded, attempting to blink away the tears in her eyes. It didn't work.

"She's in stable condition, but," the doctor continued. His words seemed a little blurry. No, that wasn't right. They seemed a little muffled, "it's my recommendation that she stay with us in the ICU. It seems the infection still isn't quite gone and it may have developed further."

Santana nodded, wiping at her face in a sort of furious sweep as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"If I'm being honest, it's going to be touch and go. This is her third stay in –"

"Two months," Santana's voice cracked. Her hand went around her throat as if to steady her voice.

"I promise we'll do what we can," the doctor reached forward, squeezing her arm. "Do you have any questions?"

"No," she rasped, though she had a million, the most important one being: what am I supposed to do if she dies?

Rachel was still holding her by the waist when the doctor left. "Come home with me."

Santana didn't say anything. She let herself be led out of the hospital and back to the car. Rachel drove her home.

When the Latina stepped through Rachel's bedroom doorway she stopped, every part of her going rigid. Her hands moved to her face and she wondered when she'd started crying exactly. Her grief deafened and blinded her. She cried, because she knew this was bad. She knew it wasn't going to be good. She sobbed so hard that her chest ached and her head hurt. She didn't know how long she was standing there, only that at some point Rachel had tearfully urged her to at least _sit _down. Hadn't she been sitting?

When Rachel tugged her down to the bed and pulled the Latina into her arms, she clutched Rachel's arms hard enough to bruise them. Her sobs shook her entire body; her grief swallowed her. Santana's face was buried against Rachel's chest and she thought she felt Rachel's fingers sifting through her hair.

###

Morning came. Rachel had woken her up as gently as anyone ever had, stroking her face and hair and whispering a good morning. Rachel looked at Santana as if she thought the girl might break apart. Frankly, Santana felt like she might.

She didn't want to go to school, didn't want to get up … didn't want anything. Santana lay against Rachel's pillow, staring into those concerned eyes, she found herself reaching for Rachel's hand and pressing it to her face. Rachel responded, her fingers fanning out over Santana's cheek and her thumb brushing just under Santana's eyes. They remained there for a moment. The shorter girl helped Santana stand, picked out a hoodie for her to wear that wouldn't seem too conspicuous to anyone.

Rachel knew how to ease Santana's grief and anxiousness without the girl having to say or ask for a thing. At school, she kept the Latina moving, answered inquiries for her, and eventually got Santana to a functional enough state to where they parted ways at lunch and Santana pretended that she was just in a really bad mood. And nobody asked her any questions. She didn't go to lunch; she spent lunch in the office waiting for any phone call from the hospital.

She got through the day, but she didn't know how, and she was halfway to her car when she realized she hadn't driven her car. Rachel caught her, gently, guided her to her own vehicle. Rachel and Santana picked Marcus up; Santana had stood outside the car since the boy wouldn't recognize Rachel's car.

She arranged that afternoon for Marcus to stay with his friend's family for the week. Until things got better. Marcus seemed to be absent of any anxiety over it. When they dropped him off at his friend's house, he charged out of the car and into his friend as if he hadn't seen him in a week. When Santana followed, kneeled to give him a kiss goodbye, he patted her cheeks softly with both hands.

"Everything's going to be okay," he assured his older cousin.

Santana smiled the best she could. "I love you."

"I love you!" Marcus yelled with a kind of joy, hugged her, and charged away.

In the car on the way back to Rachel's, Santana leaned her head against the window and wished aloud, "If only I had the elasticity and optimism of an eight year old."

Rachel reached across the divider as she drove, and Santana felt fingers threading between her own. She didn't question why, and didn't really care. She squeezed Rachel's hand, thankful for the steadying touch.

###

She was sitting at the Berry's kitchen table when she called the hospital. Rachel sat some soup down in front of her and sat down beside her, legs crossed and hands folded between her knees. She watched Santana with a quiet gaze.

"There hasn't been any change in her condition," the nurse informed her over the phone.

"Not better or worse," Santana confirmed quietly over the line. "You'll call me if something changes?"

"Yes, Miss Lopez."

Santana scratched her head, eyebrows knitting together. "Thank you," she mustered before hanging up the phone. She had cried out most of her tears the night before, and simply rested her face in her hands. She felt Rachel's hand in her back.

Leroy's heavy footfalls came into the kitchen. Santana looked up, felt Rachel's hand remain on her back.

"How is she?" Leroy asked with a gentle curiosity.

"The same," Santana answered simply, sucking in her bottom lip as she looked down. She fidgeted with her sleeves.

"How are you holding up?" His questions were generally non-invasive and careful as if he knew Santana probably didn't want to talk too much.

She shrugged her shoulders. Again, she covered her eyes and tried to remember to keep breathing. In and out.

"Marcus is handling it well," Rachel seemed to be informing Leroy of this more than Santana. She'd scooted her chair close enough to loop her arm fully around Santana's back. The Latina felt fingers stroking her side. As grieved and worried as she was, Santana felt comfort from every touch Rachel was giving her. Rachel was really all she had right now. And she couldn't worry Marcus. For all he would understand, for a little while, was that it was another hospital visit.

In her gut, Santana knew it wasn't.

Santana longed for that careless night with the glee club. She longed for the uncomplicated moment in the pool. She longed for anything but the constant circling thoughts in her head.

"That's your little … brother? Cousin?" Leroy clarified gently.

"Cousin," Rachel answered for Santana.

"Santana, if you need _anything, _let us know. Please." Leroy's large hand squeezed Santana's shoulder before the sound of his footfalls retreated.

"Eat something," Rachel murmured softly beside Santana, nudging the bowl of soup closer.

Santana obliged, but ate in silence. Rachel seemed okay with that.

###

Abuela seemed to be doing better, at least that's what the doctor's said. And she was sounding better every day. She just couldn't come home yet. So Santana and Marcus went to see her every other day, and on the weekends for at least two hours. Marcus seemed okay, and Santana was recovering despite the nagging feeling that this may be the last hospital stay.

Mostly, Santana was trying to take it day by day. She went to work, went to school. She took care of Marcus after her stay at the Berry household.

Rachel was a much more frequent visitor, though. On the nights they didn't go see their nana, Rachel brought supper over and the three of them picked out a movie together to watch. Santana looked forward to those nights. She and Rachel had struck a quiet friendship, and Santana trusted Rachel with everything. They became used to one another's company; they didn't spend all of their time together during school, only because Santana really didn't want to deal with any responses from any of her old friends, or from Rachel's friends.

Santana ate lunch with Rachel and her friends at lunch. Sometimes she engaged in the conversation – with sarcastic remarks or bitchy comments if she was in a bad mood – but mostly she ate lunch. That was their secret. Rachel made Santana's lunches for her and left it in her locker every morning. Sometimes there would be a note, but mostly it was just food. Some days Rachel would leave little toy soldiers or trinkets for Santana to bring home to Marcus.

It was so subtle that the transition from classmates, to coworkers, to their now cemented friendship that only sometimes when she walked into her living room and saw Marcus on Rachel's lap would Santana have to stop and take the moment in.

###

It was a Saturday night and Rachel had invited both Marcus and Santana over for a slumber party. Marcus had been so excited that it was all he talked about when he and Santana visited abuela in the hospital. By the time they had to leave for Rachel's, he was practically pulling Santana out the door.

Leroy opened the door when they arrived, and Marcus had barged in first. Hiram was there as well, and Santana was just taking her shoes off when Marcus was introducing himself to both men. He took a particular interest in Leroy, and upon greeting asked if his and Leroy's hair felt the same. Leroy had laughed and nodded.

"Gimme some skin!" Marcus stuck his hand out to Leroy, who laughingly obliged.

"I don't even know where he learned that," Santana commented wryly. She heard footsteps on the stairs and Rachel appeared. "Thanks for having us over."

Hiram waved a hand in dismissal, "Sweetie, Rachel would make us move you both in if she could," he grinned at his daughter before giving Santana a hug in greeting.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders simply. When Santana's eyes met hers, she smiled a little larger.

"Can I see your room?" Marcus tugged on Rachel's hand.

"Of course!" She lifted the boy into her arms and carried him up the stairs. Santana followed after, nodding in greeting to Leroy as the taller man headed into the kitchen to start supper before climbing up the stairway.

Marcus was busy asking about all of Rachel's trophies and certificates when Santana came through the doorway, clicking the door shut behind her. She chuckled and sat down, just watching. He held on to Rachel's hand the same way he always held on to hers, and she realized Rachel being in her life didn't just benefit _her, _but it benefitted Marcus too.

Since the weather was warming, it was nice enough to use the pool without getting hypothermia, so after a while Rachel suggested they go swimming. It would keep Marcus busy, and maybe give Santana a little down-time with Rachel. So everyone re-emerged, one by one, in their swimsuit. Marcus made a show of his Batman swim trunks to Hiram and Leroy before he asked for permission to get in.

Santana was about to warn him not to run but he bolted from the living room, out the doors, and made a full cannonball into the pool. She laughed a little, draped her towel over her shoulder and followed Rachel onto the patio.

The shorter brunette settled on a lounging chair beside the pool, and Santana was thankful for the sun because she was in desperate need of a tan. Early spring had all but drained her color from her. The Latina lay on the chair next to Rachel's, and glanced over at the brunette's lithe form. It was hard not to stare, because under Rachel's clothing was a really, really nice body.

Santana being Santana, it was hard not to notice. She tried not to be rude about it and wasn't about to bust through the boundaries of their friendship, so she only let herself look a little. Just a little.

###

Marcus passed out later that night on Rachel's floor, snuggled in his sleeping bag. Santana and Rachel made sure he was asleep enough and left him alone in there to sleep while they went back out to the pool. Both girls thought the night was warm enough to take a swim for so they got their still-damp suits back on, eagerly padding out to the patio.

Santana was in the middle of folding her towel when she was shoved into the pool. She just caught her breath as she went under and realized Rachel's arms were around her waist. She came to the surface not sure if she should be laughing or yelling, but all that came out was, "Well that was shitty!"

Rachel only laughed in response, smoothing her hair back. "Gotcha."

"Berry, I didn't think you had it in you. You're kinda sneaky," Santana swam back a little bit, and when she was sure Rachel wasn't going to pull anything, she did a couple laps back and forth in the pool. Rachel dove under a few times, and finally both girls settled along the edge of the pool.

Above them, the stars glinted and Santana soaked it in. She'd never _really _looked at the sky before; her friendship with Rachel had given her a new way of looking at things. Sometimes, in order to get through the hard parts, you had to take a moment to appreciate the present. Santana felt like she was always worrying, always stressed, and right now it was just melting off of her. She welcomed the relief.

"I hope I've been helpful," Rachel spoke after a little bit of silence. "I mean, with everything going on. I felt like … I didn't want you to be crushed beneath the weight of responsibility," the brunette had an arm on the side of the patio and was half-treading water, facing Santana.

"What? Rach," she stated simply, "You .. have pretty much been my lifeline," things like this were hard for her to say. "I suck with the whole words thing, but I'm here right now because of you. I don't know if I could have dealt with everything if you hadn't been there. And I mean, man, I fought you every step of the way but somehow you still managed to get to me." It was the most she _could _say, because frankly so much that had occurred between them had been non-verbal, a kind of growth process that seemed more natural than anything.

"I know. I'm just…" Rachel swam away a little bit, then back toward Santana. She did that, back and forth, as she seemed to be finding the words. "I want to thank you, I guess. For letting me be here for you. You didn't have to and I know it drove you crazy that someone was trying to break inside that fortress you have in your head."

Santana laughed, "Yeah, that's a given," she murmured. The Latina watched Rachel hop out of the pool and sit on the side, so she dove under the water and leisurely swam at the bottom of the pool until she reached where she knew Rachel was. She took in a fresh breath of air, surfacing just near Rachel's legs. She rested her arms beside the shorter girl's swinging legs and lay her head to the side so she could look up at her.

Their eyes lingered on one another. Santana was partially remembering what seemed like a lifetime ago, the night in the pool with the glee club. The way the light played over Rachel's face reminded her of it. They'd never talked about it, never breached anything resembling a conversation about why exactly they had both seemed so enamored in that moment.

Santana didn't know how you talked about those things, unless it was something she could easily toss aside. And maybe it was different now that Rachel meant so much to her. Sure, they didn't act differently at school, and at work there was still the bickering and teasing, but when it came to the time that mattered – the private time, the family time they seemed to share amongst both families – it was clear there was something very important between them.

Rachel looked just as lost in thought as Santana did, but both held their gazes steady on one another.

Santana wanted to tell Rachel she kind of loved her, the way you loved a family member. Only it was just a little different. The whole part where she found Rachel irresistible sometimes, deep down, that was different. Santana had flings, crushes, even had meaningless sex. She was a modern American teenager. This wasn't like that. This was something. She just couldn't get the words to come out.

Rachel slipped back into the pool and Santana's heart fluttered a little as the brunette reached under the water and pulled Santana closer. Rachel's hair smelled of chlorine, and the both of them were kind of illuminated by the pool light. Santana let Rachel wrap her arms around her neck; she realized at some point she'd wrapped her own arms around Rachel's waist and was holding her. Rachel steadied them against the edge of the pool, her elbows resting on Santana's shoulders and – Santana assumed – her hands gripping the brick behind them.

They were close. Very close. And Rachel's eyes looked darker than usual, water droplets moving down her face.

And Santana realized she was kind of scared of this moment. Her hands stroked Rachel's skin under the water, fingers tracing the line of Rachel's spine up to where her bikini top was tied, then down again. She probably shouldn't be doing this, but she felt compelled. She couldn't control this, and she didn't know why.

For the first time in Santana's romantic life, somebody else had the power. Rachel's body pressed against hers, she could have easily turned the situation and taken advantage of it. She could have done so ages ago, but she hadn't.

Santana's heart beat hard against her chest, "You kind of mean everything to me," the words felt like they came from a secret place, and she breathed them so they traveled to Rachel's ears and no further. Her eyes were a bit wide, and she felt nervous in a way she never had before.

"You mean that?" Rachel asked just as quietly.

Santana swallowed, nodded, and was pretty sure she looked insecure for a moment.

"If I kissed you, would that be wrong?" The diva's voice was full of self-doubt.

The Latina didn't know. She'd never felt this way before, not even with Brittany. She'd never trusted anyone so much, never cared so much for another person that wasn't somehow related to her. Yet here she was, for the first time, feeling like … well, a _teenager._

"'Cause I really want to," Rachel's voice had softened, and she'd let go of the wall behind them. Her fingers moved just below Santana's ears, down her neck, on either side.

Santana was rushing headlong into a kind of daze. "I think I really want you to," she laughed a little nervously. "What if I screw this up? What if … what if I upset you some time and you decide… that it was a mistake? To be involved with me, or even to be friends with me? I don't know if I could handle that," the words poured out from a place of honesty she'd never let out before.

Rachel's fingers were still tracing lines up and down the sides of her neck. The brunette shook her head; Santana could feel her body pressing just a little more against Santana's. "I don't think it could happen. This is …"

"I know," Santana whispered. "I've never been scared like this before," she closed her eyes as if in shame. She was completely vulnerable to Rachel right now. She felt lips on her forehead, warm and lingering, lips on her cheek – her heart started to race – and just before she opened her eyes she felt fingers cup her jawline and Rachel's lips connected with her own. It was soft, but it lingered. Soon she was kissing Rachel back; not hungrily, not demanding, and for the first time since she'd kissed _anyone _she wasn't trying to assert control. It was a slow kiss that built up to a heady exchange of breath and teenage hormones. By the time Rachel took a breath between them, Santana was panting. Her body was alight with a mixture of things – lust, affection, joy – and she was practically digging her fingers into Rachel's back to keep a hold of her, as if she was afraid if she let go, Rachel would go away.

Rachel's lips were on hers again, moments later, this time more confident. Santana felt heat low in her belly the moment Rachel's tongue darted out to catching dripping water on her bottom lip. It ignited Santana's predatory instinct, and soon she had Rachel pinned against the side of the pool; she kissed her hungrily, with teeth and tongue, her teeth claiming Rachel's bottom lip and pulling. She could tell by the way Rachel arched her body outward into Santana's and groaned that she'd never been kissed like that. Santana drew it out, knowing it couldn't go further than this, not tonight. She kissed Rachel until she reached the point of no return, because she didn't want it to go that far _yet. _So when she was breathing against Rachel's mouth, she let out an audible groan of discontent. She wanted nothing more than to let things go a whole lot further, but Rachel wasn't ready yet and if she was being honest, she probably wasn't either.

So they had their hungry kisses in the pool, and when Santana finally pulled herself away and helped Rachel out of the pool, she wrapped her arms around Rachel and pulled her into the tightest embrace she could manage. Towels wrapped around the both of them, Santana kissed Rachel's waiting mouth lingeringly, but tenderly enough that it left them both in the _right _frame of mind.

That night, after they dried off and got dressed, Santana climbed into bed beside Rachel and for the first time, slipped her arm around Rachel from behind. She found herself both satisfied and wanting, but the mixture of feelings subsided as she felt Rachel's fingers thread through her own.

Maybe it was weird timing, but Santana never felt so _right _about anything in her life. She fell asleep, her cousin on the floor near them, and Rachel in her arms for the first time as something more than a friend. For now, this was good. This would be okay.


End file.
